John! What the hell is this?
by A-Thieving-magpie
Summary: A short domestic Johnlock one-shot in which John gets a cat and Sherlock is not all too pleased about it.


"John! What the hell is this? "

John smirked as his flatmate's indignant cry reached his ears. He'd been wondering how long it would take Sherlock to notice the latest addition to 221B. Glancing at the clock, John saw that it appeared to have taken him thirty minutes. Quite a while for someone who was supposed to be the most observant man in the world. John folded his newspaper and waited.  
Sherlock emerged from the kitchen, goggle marks ringing his eyes on his soot-blackened face and his hair wild. He hadn't slept in days; John had gone to bed the last few nights and left him doing things-better-not-thought-about to parts of dead rabbit in the kitchen. From his current state, John guessed that he'd now taken to setting the bloody thing on fire.  
In Sherlock's outstretched hands was the cause of his alarm, a fluffy, brown, purring bundle that he looked at with a mixture of disgust and confusion.

"What the _hell_ is this?!" He repeated

"Well, it's called a kitten, it's like a baby cat Sherlock." John answered the question, suppressing the grin that desperately wanted to spread across his face.

"I _know_ what a kitten is, but what is it doing in here! I'm _trying_ to do an _experiment_!" Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

He dumped the still purring kitten unceremoniously on John's lap, where it curled up and began licking its tiny paws. John pursed his lips as he stroked the kitten, biting back words that he knew would cause an argument.

"Well?" Sherlock was still stood in the lounge doorway, evidently not about to let it be and go back to doing god-know-what in the kitchen.

"Well What?"

"Why is it here?"

"_He_ is called Charlie and _he_ is here because Molly's cat had kittens. She was quite keen to get rid of them; I said we'd have one."

"Molly has a cat?" Sherlock pondered this new information for a second before snapping back to John. "Well, _we_ can't have a cat."

"I already said yes to Molly. And Mrs Hudson said it was fine" John said softly, a warning note in his voice which Sherlock didn't quite pick up on.

"We can't have that_ thing _running about the place causing a mess." Sherlock replied, John inwardly sighing at the irony of his statement. "Wait...you asked Mrs Hudson, but not me?"

"She's the landlady, and you were...busy. Anyway, do you ask me before you start doing something? And by something I mean these _bloody _experiments! You've taken over the whole kitchen and I'm getting a bit sick of it, I can't even make a sandwich without worrying how much explosives or blood it's been contaminated by!" John felt his frustration from the last three days release "at least Charlie won't leave heads in the fridge or play the violin at three am." He added in an undertone.

Sherlock threw himself down on the sofa, exhaling loudly. He stretched out his long limbs and became an immovable part of the couch, as was his usual practice when sulking. John continued to stroke the kitten, determinedly not giving his flatmate the attention he was seeking. Charlie was now purring loudly and nuzzling into John's jumper; Sherlock was still sprawled on the sofa with his back to them both.

"I'm going to make tea. Would you like some?" John broke the silence.

Sherlock grunted and closed his eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes, shall I?" John replied, effortlessly taking the moral high-ground. "Can you mind Charlie for a bit?"

When Sherlock didn't reply, John simply walked over and placed the kitten in his lap. Charlie Meowed, a single cracked mew and Sherlock opened an eye.  
John had gone off to the kitchen and Sherlock wondered whether there was any point telling him that he'd moved the tea bags to make room for other – far more useful and experiment related - things. He placed a hand on the furry creature's head and stared into its yellow eyes. Charlie simply stared back into Sherlock's blue ones, his nose twitching and fur standing on end, trying to figure out this mysterious new person. Sherlock used his free hand to reach down and retrieve his violin. He'd thrown it down by the sofa maybe, two days ago? It had been discarded upon discovering the answer to a particularly irritating little problem he'd been searching his mind palace for. He struck his bow across the strings, notes flowing from his fingertips. He didn't play a tune, but rather erratic notes that clashed and squealed. As he played, Charlie decided, yes, this person was okay. He paced round in a circle and then settled down to sleep in Sherlock's lap. At that moment, John came back in with two steaming cups of tea.

"Why were the tea bags in the...?" John stopped suddenly when he saw how Charlie had fallen asleep to the sound of Sherlock's violin.

"I think he likes the noise." The detective remarked as he stopped playing and looked up at John.

"Right."John set the cups down and sat back in his own armchair, sipping from his tea. "Well, if he can put up with that I think he's earned the right to stay."

Sherlock smirked and John saw his expression visibly soften as he watched the kitten's belly rise and fall in his sleep.

"Fine. He can stay, as long as he's housetrained."

"Oh yeah, Molly said It takes them a while to learn how to use a litter tray."

Sherlock's eyes widened as he felt his lap suddenly get a lot warmer.


End file.
